Prussia's Final Goodbye
by LulzyIsDangerouslyAwkward
Summary: Well, this is sad. So... yeah. Help is appreciated. If you can tell me anything I did wrong, please do. This is my first story published on here. It's about Prussia, obviously *hint: Look at the title, baka!* It's rated T because it does have one violent scene... So... enjoy?


The faces around Prussia just blended into unfamiliar blobs on color blending into expressions he could never read. No one stood out anymore. No one was exceptionally pretty, ugly, fat, skinny, annoying, quiet, nothing. Everyone in the world was just so... bland. He found them almost repulsive, the way they didn't even notice that they meant nothing to everyone. Gilbert couldn't imagine being tricked like that. He couldn't picture himself being admired or cared about.

He tried to be quiet. No one noticed him. He tried to be nice. No one noticed him. He tried everything, but no one gave a damn about him. He just wanted someone, anyone, to _care_. He started to wonder if people would forget about him. That was what he feared. He wanted to leave an impact, no matter how big or small.

So he pretended to be confident. He pretended that he believed that he was the center of everyone's universe. He kind of wanted to believe it, but at the end of the day, he was just another mixture of colors, like everyone else. No even his "little brudder*" would remember him.

"West?" Prussia called his brother at two o'clock in the morning, where these thoughts usually crept up. Isn't that when the monsters usually come out to play? He had a feeling that downing his sorrows in sweet, delicious beer wouldn't work this time. He was sick of being labeled as an "alcoholic" for trying to push these thoughts away from his mind, anyway, so he didn't really _want_ to drink this time. "Can I talk to you?" He desperately tried to keep the worry out of his voice.

"I don't have time for your foolish antics, Prussia," his brother spat coldly. Obviously the call had woken him up, putting him in a bad mood.

"Brudder, I'm scared," Prussia whispered, refraining from calling him West for what might be the first time ever. He feared his little brother's response, because he felt like a single flick of water could send him spiraling down the road to self-destruction. Turns out, he was just as weak as he thought.

"I have more pressing matters to attend to." The words cut like a knife to the poor man's heart.

"B-Brudder, please, wait!"

The long monotone drone of a disconnected call filled Prussia's right ear. His hands shook as he put the phone back down. He was right. His brother didn't care. His little brother even thought that he was annoying. The little brother that had looked up to the strong Prussian in childhood, the little brother that Prussia loved so much.

The realization that no one would ever think of him as anything but annoying ever again crashed down on him. Holding his face in his hands, Gilbert felt his despair swallow him whole. He found himself moving without thinking, walking calmly down to the weaponry gun to stand with a forlorn look on his pale face. He was facing his collection of guns, something he had prided himself in... the one thing he _truly_ felt accomplished about. If he was going to do it, if he was seriously going to end this, it was going to be with one of his prized possessions.

He took a pen out of his pocket and looked down to see that he had brought paper. It'd be funny, his body seeming to move on its own, if he weren't dancing with the devil. Slowly, he pressed the paper against the wall and carefully wrote out his final goodbye.

To whom it may concern-

If you're reading this, you'll probably forget me. I mean nothing, and history will never remember me. I'm through with it all. I've set myself up for a horrible, sorrowful life that I cannot stand any longer. Someone please take care of Gilbird. Tell Hungary that she won our argument. Tell Italy that maybe I'll see him someday. Tell Austria that he's an annoying prick, but that he treats Hungary with respect, so... he can't be all that bad. Tell Switzerland that he can have my guns, as long as he uses them to win wars and keep Lili safe. Tell America that his ideas need some work, but his heart is in the right place- I always admired his confidence. Tell everyone that I never really thought that I was awesome, but that I tried to believe it for while. Lastly, tell Brudder... West... that even though I may be annoying and loud and a drunk and useless, and even though I teased him so much, that I loved him until my life disappeared, and if there's an afterlife, I'll keep on loving him there.

Speaking of the afterlife, now I get to know. I get to know if there really is a Hell. If there is, I'm sure that's where I'll be.

Please forgive me, but don't forget me. That's all I ask of you.

Sincerely,

Ze-not-so-awesome-Prussia

aka

Gilbert Bielschmidt

P.S.: Sorry if I'm not very good with the goodbye, I'll-love-you-and-miss-you crap. We all know I'm not in the mood.

Well... goodbye.

Gilbird chirped like he knew what was planned. "It's okay," Gilbert assured him, petting his little head. "Someone will look after you. Stay strong, little buddy." Gilbert picked up a simple pistol and put the cool metal of it against his head. "This is it," he whispered to himself. "My last breath." He sucked in some air, releasing it with a sort of... relief. He put the gun to his mouth, trigger sticking out. He held his breath and closed his red eyes and his finger pulled on the trigger. The red of his blood seeped into his white hair as the loud bang echoed through his house. A chirp came from a distressed Gilbird. Prussia's limp body fell to the ground beside his suicide note. On the wall, the line between Germany and East Germany slowly faded until it was just one country, the proud country of Germany.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Gilbird chirped a song, like a lullaby, soft and sweet and easily memorable. Birds around the neighborhood followed his lead, even when the police and ambulance sirens flashed and hollered, and even when people entered the house, met with a gruesome surprise in the weaponry room.

It was a curious Sealand who picked the note up. After he screamed in surprise and hugged England- who would be irritated by the act under normal circumstances- it was passed around to everyone in the room. There was a good thirty minutes of silence in which Prussia's body was sealed up and wheeled away and each country had one thing on their mind: _It was my fault. I should've been more considerate._ No one blamed themself as much as Germany, though. The phone call he should've continued replayed through his mind. A feeling of bitterness (towards himself) washed over him.

Germany ended up taking care of Gilbird. It was as close as he could get to bringing his brother back. Austria played the piano at his funeral, no longer mad at the conceded albino. Everyone mourned the loss of Prussia, and no one forgot about him.

If only he were there to see it.

*Brudder means "brother". Prussia has a German accent, of course, so he pronounces English words differently. You probably knew that, but I just wanted to clear that up.


End file.
